Zazen
by Bemused Writer
Summary: Strangely, a broken connection is still a connection and if both parties wish for it greatly enough it can be reforged just like any broken thing.


_With great perseverance_

 _He meditates, seeking_

 _Freedom and happiness._

From the _Dhammapada,_ translated by Thomas Byrom; _Teachings of the Buddha_

* * *

Silence.

Shiro closed his eyes and focused once more. He was sitting at the foot of his bed in lotus position in an attempt to hear something, anything of his old connection.

But there was still that unnerving silence.

He let out a sigh. He couldn't say he was terribly surprised; he hadn't expected a different response when he'd started this little endeavor and yet the pull had been too great.

At first he had tried being near the Black Lion as though proximity had anything to do with it. Nothing. He'd caught Keith watching him with a strange mix of hope and worry, so he'd abandoned the hangar in favor of his own quarters.

As such, he was left with the only other method that he knew for a fact had gotten him results in the past: meditation techniques.

He was military but he'd always spent as much time as possible investigating the spiritual practices of Shinto and Buddhism when time permitted. Doing so had granted him a connection to his heritage as well as insight into his chosen profession. It had been part of what had helped him connect to the Black Lion in the first place: clear your mind, allow thoughts to go by as if on a stream, and then you would find something greater than yourself. If he hadn't kept those practices as a part of his daily regiment he wasn't sure how well he would have done as a leader of Voltron. The Black Lion demanded a lot: knowledge, leadership, compassion, and, apparently, the ability to traverse the astral plane of existence. He'd call the Lion demanding if he hadn't already believed in that philosophy. Well, the astral plane bit had been unexpected but even so: leadership meant going above and beyond the scope of mere duty. Maybe he was a workaholic but he liked to think he was an earnest one.

Getting to know the Black Lion had been fascinating. He'd wondered why the transition had been so easy. Perhaps the inherent animism of Shinto had allowed him to embrace the concept of the Black Lion being a living thing. It had never bothered him that a machine could also harbor a soul, a spirit. And then it had harbored his.

Shiro considered that for a moment. Allura said when she'd taken his soul and placed it inside his clone it had stripped him of his connection to the Black Lion. But could you really sever a soul connection? Was something so deep, so integral, really so fickle?

Part of him also wondered if reconnecting was wise. Keith was leading now and Shiro was proud of him. He'd always known Keith was capable. But he also knew he wasn't happy and Keith's happiness had always been a priority. Keith felt as though he'd taken something that wasn't his. Instead of saying whether he had or not—for who was Shiro to decide whether the Black Lion was right or wrong?—he asked what the connection felt like.

"It feels like … cold acceptance. With Red there was fire, it was like a dance, but now… I think Black's in mourning." Keith's eyes had lowered and he'd looked unbelievably sad.

Shiro wished he didn't feel the same.

So, while there was a selfish desire to restore his connection there was also the selfless desire for Keith to find some sort of footing in his life again. Shiro smiled wryly. Keith was an enigma at times. He finally embraced command, had formed some proper bonds with the other paladins at long last, but was already demanding that Shiro get things back in working order, back to how they'd been.

Maybe he was looking at this the wrong way. He'd been meditating for two hours now and he was no closer to hearing Black than when he started. In truth, there was a lot on his mind and he couldn't block it out. Not that he was supposed to be; that was rather the opposite of what meditation was for. He clenched his fists in his lap. Maybe he wasn't feeling as peaceful and restored as he kept telling everyone he was.

Maybe it was time to sort through some of that regardless of whether he was piloting the Black Lion. Had he allowed himself any time to think about anything unrelated to duty lately?

"Definitely not," Shiro muttered to himself. Not that there'd really been any time, not that there was any time _now_ but if not now, when? He'd finally been allowed a moment of respite; he may as well put it to use.

Shiro allowed his mind to wander a bit, allowed some stray thoughts to take hold.

Adam.

Thoughts of Adam had plagued him as soon as they'd set for home. Truthfully, he hadn't looked forward to the reunion but his memories had taken on a new edge of grief once they'd gotten to the Garrison.

It wasn't fair. He hadn't had to think of Adam for a while now—things were over between them, but he'd never wanted harm to come to him.

Shiro took a deep breath. All right, so that was something he hadn't had time to process. He missed Adam, his sense of humor when they weren't arguing, but ultimately he'd never hoped for them to get back together. Sometimes, things ended for a reason but life wasn't something you could measure. Adam hadn't deserved to lose that.

Kerberos.

It had been a fantastic journey and he'd been so thrilled to go on it. The Galra had been … less fantastic. He'd come out forever changed. But would he go back? Do what Adam had wanted?

It almost didn't need an answer.

No. He'd never change that. Ultimately, that mission had given his life as much meaning as he'd hoped though not in any way he'd anticipated. More importantly, it had allowed him to make a difference for others. Shiro had always believed in serving the greater good; it's why he had aimed for the stars in the first place.

He looked at his new prosthetic and flexed it a bit. Since there was that strange space between his shoulder and forearm it looked more like a ghost's disembodied arm than something that should be attached to a living person. Shiro supposed that was fitting as he'd spent quite a bit of time as a ghost of late.

Operation Kuron.

Ahh, that one was difficult. That one hurt the most. It left him feeling like a ghost still.

That clone had been a monster.

That clone had hurt Keith.

That clone had valued being a paladin above all things.

That clone had loved the team.

That clone had lost his life for him.

Shiro's breath quivered. It was harder to maintain a peaceful state of mind with this topic.

He wanted to hate that imposter but now he had all his memories; he was trapped with him. He wasn't another presence exactly; they couldn't converse or swap stories but he was in everything Shiro did now and it was disorienting.

Had he been the one to push Keith away or had the clone? Had he been the one to injure Keith or had it been the clone?

Did it really even matter?

He was of two minds now and he'd never been that before. Shiro had always had a pinpoint certainty of who he was and what he wanted in life.

Maybe what disturbed him most was how much the clone _agreed_ with him on things. It was hard to hate someone that was so alike in manner and conduct. If it hadn't been for Haggar would they really have had anything to disagree on at all?

Shiro supposed it all came back to the concept of a soul. The Black Lion had a soul, he had a soul, but did the clone? What was a soul anyway? His own had been unique at one point but then he'd been duplicated.

But the body was just a construct a soul was … something more. Would a soul become what you thought it should be? Was the clone kind and noble because people thought that's what Shiro was? Did _kami_ reflect what people thought they ought to be or were they simply what they were?

Ultimately, Shiro knew he wouldn't find an answer to that question but he knew what he wanted to believe: that there was something fundamental to him and the clone that was both unique and shared. The interconnectedness of the universe. He smiled a bit at that. It was said a lot, discussed a lot, but he'd only realized how pertinent it was when he'd been nothing more than thought kept burning bright inside the Black Lion.

Perhaps some connections were forced as they were in this case but Shiro didn't want that to mean they were unnatural.

Maybe he needed to accept that he and the clone simply _were_ and that the _why_ would come later.

Maybe he needed to accept that the clone had been a person as real as himself.

It was difficult to describe but Shiro felt something shift just then. He felt lighter. He hadn't solved everything, not by a long shot, but he knew what change felt like. It felt like leaving on the Kerberos mission and right now he felt it all over again.

He stood up and began to stretch. That had been enough thinking for the day. Definitely enough sitting. He needed to move, to do something. Vaguely, he recalled promising Keith he'd show him around the Atlas.

As he exited his room he felt a faint tendril of thought stir against him, as familiar as the back of his hand. It didn't speak, not with words, but he knew what it meant.

 _I'm here._

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** I hope the elements of Buddhism and Shinto sprinkled throughout this piece worked and felt honest to both. Zazen simply refers to the lotus position in meditation.

I always felt Shiro was the most spiritual paladin and I would have loved for that to be explored more. I realize this piece is a little critical of what's currently happening in Voltron (I just want this fellow to catch a break), but more than that I hope it is an enjoyable read. ^^


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